Behind the Albergue Door: Inspiration Agony Adventure on the Camino de Santiago

walking around holding the hands of his actual wife and young child.
    Whether it’s meeting your knight in shining armour or witnessing a tawdry affair, there’s no denying that something in the air on the pilgrimage definitely throws people together. Who knows what it is that makes people turn to each other in such dire conditions? Maybe we become needy for comfort when both our bodies and minds reach such a level of exhaustion. It’s true that on those evenings after completing a day’s walking your body craved whatever comfort you could give it; food never tasted better; the red wine never so delicious. Or maybe when the endless walking has made you clear through all your emotional baggage and empty your mind (as it eventually does with everyone), you are truly in the right place to connect with another person. Or hell, maybe 30+ days is just a long time for some people to go without getting any, and we don’t always have the luxury of being in a nightclub when we are hoping to score.
    And let’s get down to what everyone really wants to know...the actual scoring. Anyone with even minimal knowledge of the Camino will know that pilgrims sleep in low-budget hostels called albergues or refugios, which are often just a large, cold, musty room filled with a hundred creaky bunk beds shoved together. Doesn’t exactly make for a comfortable setting for getting your freak on does it? Sure there are other hostels and hotels that have private rooms, but the cheapest rate you will usually find is €25 each for one of these babies, and to spend €25 a day on just accommodation for over 30 nights you’d want to be a Rockefeller... plus you’d be scorned by all the “true pilgrims” for not doing the “real Camino”. So you make love (or whatever you can manage) with your newfound darling in the cramped albergues. And while you may think that the unzipping of swishy sleeping bags, the creaking of million-year-old bedsprings or the somewhat muffled pleasure noises might wake or disturb other pilgrims, there’s sure to be at least five people in the room snoring their heads off, and definitely a few night farters. And any self-respecting pilgrim should have purchased earplugs anyway, so as far as I’m concerned if they’re disturbed by what they hear it’s their own problem.
    Despite the unpleasant sounds, sights and smells, the Camino was one of the best things I have ever chosen to do, and I would do it again in the morning without thinking twice. It sorted out all the dark crap I had in my head, gave me a healthier body (which went right back to normal when I finished), and introduced me to someone I had thought I would never meet, my soul mate. So you shouldn’t be put off by all the negatives, you should do the Camino as well, whether you’re hoping to meet the love of your life, have an uncomfortable shag, or just stick to walking.
    Blisters, bedbugs, broken toes, bunk beds, aubergines/albergues, 6.30 alarms, 10.00 curfews, tinto de verano, Gangnam Style, new friends from round the globe, Scottish person, tortilla de patata, sore feet, walking shticks, Tin Tin, 'sex on a plate'(patatas con alioli), solamente Hugh, vino tinto, overweight rucksacks, 'Oh yeah, Giggity!', smelly socks, 'English is not my first language', Pilgrim Spirit (Cola Cao con brandy por favor), AIGO, you go, we all go...TO SANTIAGO!!

Dean Johnston
    Canada
    Our last four or five days were spent glumly trudging through steady drizzle and intermittent downpours alternately dreaming of a not so distant future which would see us indoors or travelling by (gasp) vehicle like normal people, and vaguely dreading the looming spectre of a life of decisions, unfamiliar situations and dry feet.
    Nonetheless, we successfully completed our chosen route, strolling up to the Santiago cathedral, reputed resting place of St. James’ dusty old bones, giddy and triumphant 35 days after setting out into the darkness of the French-Spanish border apprehensive and clean. In fact, everything fell into place almost like a Hollywood script, the elusive sun making a brief but invigorating appearance just in time for the arrival of our ecstatic group of seven who had all travelled together at different times throughout but that morning only found ourselves gathered rather coincidentally along the way via fortuitous open windows, conveniently shared head lamps and strictly-enforced cohabitation. As people were always fond of saying, “the Camino provides”, and